Bruises, Bumps, and Purple Bubbles
by hinklepup
Summary: Set in the summer before the trio's sixth year of Hogwarts. Ron is having a horrible day; how could it possibly get better?


Ron was having a very bad day. First off, he'd woken to the sound of the ghoul in the attic repeatedly banging two pipes together. It went on for _hours_. Annoyed and developing a slight headache, Ron decided to go downstairs a little earlier than usual.

Going downstairs, as it turned out, was not a good idea at all.

As soon as Ron's foot left the bottommost step, his brother's fiancee came rushing into the room.

"Ronald! 'Ou are the first awake! Come an eat!" she said. Momentarily stunned by Fleur's part-veela charm, Ron felt a goofy smile light up his face.

"Okay."

Beaming, Fleur took him by the elbow, her silvery hair streaming behind her as she propelled him into the kitchen and sat him down in a chair. In her joy at being accepted into the Weasely family only the night before, Fleur had made breakfast. However, as Ron found out after tasting the burnt toast and watery eggs placed before him, Fleur was _not_ a cook.

"Mmmmm," Ron said after forcing down the last of the meal. "Thanks, Fleur, that was delicious." Fleur's smile, if possible, got even wider.

Ron tried to smile back, but could only manage a weak sort of grimace.

"Are 'ou alright, Ronald? 'Ou look a beet pale."

Ron nodded and stood up, his stomach rolling slightly at the movement. "Yeah...I think I just need to go outside for a bit." He hurried out into the garden before Fleur could say anything else.

After a few minutes of laying under a tree and making sure his breakfast wasn't going to make a second appearance, Ron felt a bit better. The sun warmed his body, and he felt himself dozing off slightly...

WHAM.

Something very small and very hard slammed into Ron's head. He hurriedly sat up, feeling slightly nauseated, his headache from earlier restored. He clutched at the grass to steady himself, and his hand closed around a tiny ball. Holding it up, Ron saw that it was white, with tiny little dimples in it.

"Are you alright, Ron?"

Ron looked up from his inspection of the ball to find an out-of-breath Fred standing over him. Ron tried to think of words to say, but found that he couldn't; instead, he held up the small white ball.

"Aha! GEORGE! RON FOUND THE GOLF BALL!" Fred bellowed in the direction of the house. Ron winced at the loudness of his brother's voice.

"Woulyaplbemorequierfred?"

"What?" Fred said

"Shhhhhhhhh," Ron said, massaging his temples gently.

"Ohhh. Well, I'll be off. George and I are going through Dad's shed of confiscated Muggle items...there might be something useful!" Fred whispered before dashing off.

Great. Ron had been hit in the head hard enough to knock him silly with a cursed Muggle ball. It almost beat the soggy, burnt breakfast he'd had earlier. Speaking of which...should he warn the twins? Ron fingered the knot that was already forming on the side of his head and decided against it. The twins had stayed over after Bill and Fleur's engagement party and kept Ron up for most of the night with the noises coming from their room. Them causing Ron's lack of sleep and now being the source of the cursed golf ball - whatever that was - warranted revenge. Ron hoped Fleur would call Fred and George in for breakfast soon.

After most of the dizziness and pain subsided, Ron stood up and made his way back inside. Perhaps, now that the rest of his family was starting to wake up, he'd be able to head back to sleep. Ron quietly slipped into the house, skirting around the kitchen in case Fleur had run out of breakfast victims and wanted to feed him second helpings. He crept up the stairs, skipping the creaky one, and had just stepped onto the second floor landing, when he heard his mother's voice.

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley called. "Come downstairs! You have chores to do!"

Sighing, Ron thumped back down the stairs, his head throbbing in time with his footsteps. His mother was waiting at the bottom of the steps with a list.

"Fleur is going to be staying here for the next couple of weeks. Harry and Hermione are coming soon as well. This house needs to be spotless."

Ron took the list, eying it with distaste. _Degnome the garden. Straighten up your room. Clean the chicken coop._ The list went on for a full page. Ron looked up, opening his mouth in protest, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off before he could even begin.

"Garden," she said, pointing to the back door. "Now."

...

Fred opened the door to Arthur Weasley's shed, wading through piles of junk to where his twin rooted through boxes of items Arthur had confiscated during his time in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office.

"I found the golf ball...I think they're enchanted to attack people."

George looked up with a grin. "So who did it hit?"

"Ronnie. Gave him a big 'ole bump. I hope Mum doesn't notice."

"Nah, she's so caught up with Fleur I don't think she even noticed when we accidentally set off that crate of firework prototypes in our room last night."

"Good." Fred pocketed the golf ball. "Find anything else useful?"

"Nope. It's just a bunch of vanishing keys and biting teacups and stuff." George shrugged. "The golf ball might come in handy, though, if we figure out how it targets people."

"Sure."

...

After degnoming the garden and cleaning what seemed like every nook and cranny in the Burrow, Ron was exhausted. It didn't help that Ginny, in an effort to keep Fleur away from her, kept sending the girl to find Ron with a tray of homemade cookies. The first time this had happened, Ron had crammed a cookie in his mouth, thinking they were his mother's creation. However, the cookies tasted like dust. Every time Fleur came around, Ron would think up a new reason to not take one; his latest excuse was that he'd spoil his appetite, and Fleur was starting to get suspicious.

Now that he was done with chores, however, Ron could return to his room. Fleur wouldn't come in if he didn't answer her knocks on the door, he wouldn't run the risk of offending her by refusing to eat her cooking, he'd maybe be able to get some sleep, _and_ he'd be safe from whatever the twins were up to.

He got halfway up the stairs before he was stopped by Ginny.

"Ron," she said, "Mum says I have to move my bed over to make room for the cot Hermione's sleeping on. Can you come help me real quick?"

Ron sighed and followed his sister into her room.

"If you didn't insist on having your bed in the middle of the room, you wouldn't have to move it every time Hermione comes over."

"Oh hush, Ron, it's only a couple times a year. Now you push and I'll pull. Ready?"

Ron nodded.

"Ok - one, two, three!"

With a scraping noise that made Ron's head throb, they moved the bed over to the opposite wall. As Ginny was straightening her sheets, Ron glanced at the patch of floor where the bed used to be. A small stack of brightly colored envelopes was sitting there. He bent down to pick one up.

"See, that didn't take long at all," Ginny said, glancing up to see her brother bending over something on the floor. "Ron, what are you do- Wait, Ron, don't look at those!"

But it was too late. Ron held the contents of one of the envelopes in his hand, reading the parchment with an incredulous expression.

"Mrs. Baker's guide to a Bodacious Bosom?" He read aloud. Ginny's ears turned red.

"Ginny, you aren't seriously doing this are you?" Ron asked.

"Well..." Ginny said in a small voice, looking down at her chest, "They _are_ rather small..."

Ron's ears turned pink at the prospect of discussing the size of his younger sister's breasts with her.

"Erm, well...I'll just be...going then," he said, flinging the brightly colored papers on the floor and dashing up the next few flights of stairs to his room.

...

"George," Fred said excitedly, dashing into their room, "I've done it!"

"Brilliant!" George replied. He shut the door and locked it. "Now all we have to do is wait!"

...

Ron pulled open the door to his room, taking a couple of steps before flopping down on his bed. It would be dinnertime soon, but he could still fit in a quick nap. He thought of the papers he'd seen in his sister's room and tried to push the memory away. He couldn't believe Ginny would even _think_ of doing something like that.

There was a tap at his bedroom window; Ron walked over and raised it up, surprised to find not one, but two owls waiting outside. After untying two very thick envelopes and giving the owls some treats, Ron sat on the edge of his bed to read his letters. One - his heart gave a jolt - was from Hermione. The other looked very official, and bore the seal of the Ministry of Magic.

Deciding to save Hermione's letter for last, Ron tore open the Ministry envelope. The first piece of parchment was titled _O.W.L. Results_. Ron looked at it in confusion. _O.W.L.s? _he thought, _But I'm not supposed to get my OWL results until later.__ Hang on..._

Ron flipped over the envelope, only to find that the traditional seal of the Ministry of Magic had been replaced by three interlocking W's. _Oh no..._

The envelope began to smoke, then grape-sized, opaque purple bubbles came streaming out of it. Ron tried to run out of his room, but the bubbles followed him, attacking him and sticking onto his skin and clothes. Ron tried to fend off the bubbles, but he couldn't keep them away; soon he was covered completely.

...

"FRED! GEORGE! OPEN UP!"

The doorknob to the twins room rattled as Ron tried to force his way inside, and the twins howled in laughter.

"I think he got our package, George."

"Ohhhh, I can't wait to see what he looks like!"

"OI! I CAN HEAR YOU IN THERE! NOW OPEN. UP. THE. DOOR!"

Fred turned to his brother. "Should we let him in?"

"Naw. Let's have some fun with it first."

...

Ron gave the twin's doorknob one final tug before giving up and clambering down the rest of the stairs, grumbling about bat bogey hexes and revenge. Purple bubbles obscured most of his vision and he tripped a few times, grabbing the banister for balance. He was almost to the bottom of the stairs, when -

WHAM.

For the second time that day, Ron Weasley was hit rather hard. This time, however, the object in question was warm, soft, and cried out in pain.

"Ron! Watch where you're going!"

The impact had popped most of the bubbles, so the sound of her voice confirmed what Ron already knew. He'd run into Hermione.

"I'm going to kill Fred and George," he muttered.

Ron found himself on top of Hermione, surrounded by clothes from the trunk that had sprung open when she dropped it. Hermione started to sit up; Ron quickly stood and held out a hand to help her stand. Hermione sat for a minute, rubbing the back of her head.

"Ouch, Ronald!"

Ron realized that from his vantage point he could see straight down Hermione's shirt, and that, unlike Ginny, her chest was _not_ small. Feeling his face heat up, Ron cleared his throat. Hermione finally noticed his outstretched hand and took it.

"Thank you," she said, a tad surprised.

Ron cleared his throat again; Hermione had stood up quite close to him and he could almost feel the heat of her body through his shirt.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Hermione frowned as she looked around her, taking in the mound of clothes on the floor and Ron's current state. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are those...bubbles...on your clothes?"

Ron nodded. "Fred and George. Me running into you popped most of them."

"Oh."

Hermione's brow furrowed, as if she were working out a problem. Suddenly, Ron found bushy hair filling his field of vision. Hermione was hugging him, he realized, hugging him quite tightly. Right as Ron had gotten over the shock of feeling her body pressed up against his and was about to hug her back, Hermione let go, looking him up and down.

"There," she said as Ron felt his face heat for the second time in five minutes, "All the bubbles are gone."

"Well...thank you."

"You're welcome."

There was an awkward beat of silence, and then, almost at the same time -

"You'd better repack your trunk."

"Are those _bruises_, Ron?"

Ron nodded.

"Well," Hermione said, "I've been studying a bit of medical wizardry over the summer because of - you know, um, last year; I think I can patch those up. Will you help me with my trunk?" She stooped down and began to throw clothes in at random, not even stopping to fold them. Ron bent down and began to help, trying - and failing - not to notice that he was touching Hermione's underthings as well as her everyday clothes.

"I'll just take my things to Ginny's room," Hermione said, latching her trunk securely.

As she headed up the stairs, Ron caught himself staring at her legs and forced himself to stop. Fred and George. He needed to yell at Fred and George. Ron bounded up the stairs after Hermione, taking them two at a time, stopping slightly out of breath at the twins' room.

"Open up!" he yelled, pounding on their door. The door opened a crack; all Ron could see were Fred's - or were they George's? - eyes.

"Nope," the twin said. "And you might want to go change; your clothes are purple." The door slammed shut and Ron could hear muffled laughter from inside as he looked down to find that his clothes were, indeed, a splotchy purple. He hit the door once with the flat of his hand before stomping up the stairs to his room and yanking new clothes on. When Fred and George finally made an appearance, Ron decided, they were dead. Stupid pranks. Stupid Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Tossing his purple clothes in the hamper, Ron thudded back downstairs to the kitchen. Maybe he'd be able to find some halfway decent food that wasn't Fleur's cooking. Instead of food, however, Ron found Hermione sitting at the kitchen table. A murky bowl of something unidentifiable and a washcloth were on the table in front of her.

"Come here," she said, patting the chair next to her, "I'll fix you up."

Ron sat down somewhat uncertainly. "I'm sorry I ran into you."

"It's alright," Hermione said with a wave of her hand. "Now hold out your arm."

Ron obeyed, and Hermione dipped the washcloth in the bowl, soaking it with brown liquid. Although whatever was in the bowl looked disgusting, Ron soon found that it soothed his bruises and healed them almost immediately. He sat, quiet and content, as Hermione healed first his arms, then his knees, his shoulders, his side.

"Is there anywhere else?" she asked.

Ron started to shake his head, but as he did so his temple gave a gentle throb. "Actually, there is." Ron pulled aside his hair to reveal what was now a dark purple bruise on the side of his head. Hermione let out a low breath.

"I hope _I_ wasn't the cause of that."

"You weren't, it happened this morning. It's a long story," Ron said as Hermione once again dipped the washcloth into the bowl. Feeling Hermione's cool hands on his skin as she patched up his bumps and bruises, Ron relaxed. He decided that it might not have been such a bad day after all.


End file.
